


Glasnost in Excelsis

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Mild Language, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is unfinished business between Ardsley Wooster and Boris Dolokhov.  This is the story of how it finishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glasnost in Excelsis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarus_chained](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/gifts).



> This story is set immediately after my earlier story "The Ambassador", and it probably makes best sense if that one is read first.

It had been a good day; the best, in fact, that Sir Ardsley Wooster had had for quite a long time. It wasn't just that his diplomatic negotiations with the young Baron Wulfenbach had gone so well so far, although that was obviously excellent news. On a more personal note, they were friends again. Gil – they were now on first-name terms without any further ceremony – had apologised to him for the incident which had done such lasting damage to their friendship a few years ago, and Sir Ardsley had accepted the apology with much warmth and relief. And, once the official talks had been concluded for the day, they had gone down to the lab, just like old times, and Gil had sent down to the kitchens for a couple of huge steaming bowls of leek and potato soup and some sticky gingerbread so that they could eat while he showed off his latest set of inventions. It was not the sort of fare to which a Baron Wulfenbach might normally be expected to treat a visiting British Ambassador, but Gil remembered what his old friend really liked. And that, Sir Ardsley thought, had been touching.

They had talked till late, and not just about the inventions. It had been a long time since they had seen each other, and both of them had been through a great deal in that period, so there was much catching up to do. By the end of it, each of them had learnt a few unexpected new things about the other, or perhaps simply put things long known into the context of a wider experience. They were better friends now, perhaps, than if the friendship had never been broken.

And Sir Ardsley had also learnt something else; something small, perhaps, but important to him. He had discovered that Boris Dolokhov was still working for Gil. Tomorrow, he intended to go and see him. It would be a difficult conversation, since the last time they had met, Dolokhov had threatened to kill him. But it was a conversation he would have to have.

He extinguished the little reading light above the bed. How times have changed, he thought, with a smile. Last time I slept on this ship, I had a comfortable enough room, but it was nothing like this. There's practically room to set up some cricket nets.

He was not sure whether the click actually woke him or not, but he was certainly fully awake the instant he heard it. Years of danger had honed his reflexes to a hair trigger. His hand slipped smoothly and automatically up towards his pillow; even here, in what was now the impressive safety of Castle Wulfenbach, he had a gun under it. Old habits die hard.

“Freeze,” a voice rasped in the shadows. “Including that hand. Don't think I don't know that trick.”

Sir Ardsley froze. Dolokhov! His mouth went dry with fear. He should have prepared for something like this.

The light went on. “Ha,” said Dolokhov. “Not looking so cocky now, are we? I like to see you looking terrified.”

“I expect you do, yes,” said Sir Ardsley heavily. Dolokhov would have looked quite alarming enough without the gun he was aiming directly into his adversary's face; he was tall and muscular, and would easily have outweighed Sir Ardsley even without the extra pair of arms, though Sir Ardsley was slightly the taller of the two.

“Well,” said Dolokhov. “Don't ever say I'm unreasonable. I'm going to give you a choice, which is a damn sight more than you did for me, Wooster. One way or the other, you are going out of that window there, but you can decide whether you preserve half a shred of dignity and jump out yourself, or I put a bullet through your head first and then throw you out. Either way...” He curled his lip contemptuously. “It'll be suicide. So tragic. Oh, I know all about the demons in your head. One day they're going to win, you know. So why not tonight?”

“Well,” said Sir Ardsley. “I wouldn't want to deprive you of the chance to gloat. So I'll jump, but first we'll talk. I had planned to come and see you tomorrow in any case; you can check that with the Baron if you don't believe me. But you have anticipated me.”

“We will not talk,” snarled Dolokhov. “I'm not going to be trapped by that silver tongue of yours any more. I know what you're like. You're a bloody dangerous man. I swear I'd cut that sly tongue out of your head before you go out of the window, if it weren't for the risk that the Baron might find it.”

“Herr Dolokhov,” said Sir Ardsley, “why, exactly, do you think I might have been planning to come and see you tomorrow?”

“Why should I care?” snapped Dolokhov. “Go on. Get out of bed. I'm tired of you.”

“And I'm scared of you,” replied Sir Ardsley, not moving. “But you still need to listen. It's not as if it'll cost you anything to do so. If you're not satisfied with what I'm about to say, I will jump. Haven't I said I will?”

“Oh, and you always do what you say, do you?”

“Once I've said it, yes. I will jump, if you still want me to do so by the time I've finished. You have my word.”

Dolokhov narrowed his eyes. “You seem very certain I'm going to change my mind. I'm curious, Wooster.”

“Well, you did just call me a dangerous man,” said Sir Ardsley, with as much of a shrug as he could manage in his current position. “A sword is also dangerous. But you wouldn't push one away if it came to your hand, would you, Herr Dolokhov?”

“You... are offering to _help_ me?”

“Let me sit up, will you? I'm not finding it easy to express myself lying down, and if I do sit up, you'll be able to see my hands. You will know I'm not reaching for a gun.”

“All right. Sit up. No sudden movements.” Dolokhov frowned darkly. “Something tells me I'm going to regret this. But you _are_ scared of me. You're not lying about that.”

“I really don't see the point of doing so,” replied Sir Ardsley, sitting up. “I know perfectly well it's showing in my face. Now... that's better. Let me explain what I intended to come and see you about, until you so abruptly beat me to it.”

“It had better be good,” said Dolokhov. “And if it isn't, you're going out of that window without the nightshirt. That's going to upset you worse than getting killed, isn't it?”

“Oh, you do have me well worked out,” said Sir Ardsley. “Just as I should expect of you. But, no, Dolokhov. I had intended to come and see you to apologise.”

Dolokhov stared. “To... _what?!”_

“Ask the Baron. He will tell you. We talked about it earlier. You know a great deal about me, so no doubt you're well aware that Gil and I were friends in the past, and then he did something to break that friendship. Today he apologised to me, and that reminded me that I, while I was here, should apologise to you.”

“You... you... you talked about that? With the Baron?”

Sir Ardsley shrugged, which was much easier sitting up. “Ask him. He and I have no secrets now, except official ones, of course. But official ones can hardly be helped.”

“But you must have had to tell him what you did. Why didn't he...? - oh, I see. You acted as you did because you believed you were helping his precious Lady Heterodyne. Of course he'd have had no problem at all with that.”

“I _was_ helping the Lady Heterodyne,” said Sir Ardsley, mildly.

“Yes,” Dolokhov admitted. “You were. But at the time, that wasn't at all so clear.”

“I'll give you that, Herr Dolokhov.” Sir Ardsley raised an eyebrow. “Why don't you sit down, by the way?”

Dolokhov did, though he was still pointing the gun. “I can't understand why you're doing this, Wooster,” he said. “You and the Baron I can understand. You were friends. Now you're friends again. Very nice for you both, I'm sure. But you and I? We've never been friends. Not even close. Even before that little piece of unfinished business between us, we never liked each other, did we? Every time we crossed paths, we were trying to score points off each other.”

Sir Ardsley regarded him levelly. “That doesn't matter. I have some atonement to do.”

“Atonement? What are you now, a Corbettite?”

“Oh, no. Although I did have the unexpected privilege of spending a short time at St Szpac. It was... not perhaps the tranquil retreat you might imagine, but I did learn something while I was there. The Abbot was a wise man. I saw at first hand the penance he allotted to one of his erring monks.”

Dolokhov was silent for a while. Then he said, “I never thought of you as a religious man.”

“I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't learn from those who are.”

“Oh, so you've not had a steam conversion experience, then?”

Sir Ardsley looked pained. “Please, Herr Dolokhov. A pun is the lowest form of wit.”

“Pity you think that. You'd probably be very good at them,” said Dolokhov, dourly. “But never mind that. I still don't understand why you want to apologise. Yes, you did nearly get me killed, and obviously I came in here very keen to make sure you never did that again. But... if our situations had been reversed, I'm pretty sure I'd have done the same to you. In fact, thinking about it, I wouldn't have just nearly got you killed. I'd have made absolutely certain you were killed.”

“I'm sure you would. You were always efficient,” replied Sir Ardsley mildly. “But the fact of the matter, which you can believe or disbelieve as you see fit, was that I had miscalculated. My intention in that business was not to get you killed, but to save the Lady Heterodyne, which I succeeded in doing at that point. And, I admit, I was so caught up in my own cleverness at having prepared a suitable exit for myself that it did not occur to me to think, until very much later, what might possibly have happened to you. You see, I knew the Jägers well by that time. I had come to think of them as staunch friends and allies. And... well... one tends to assume that one's own side will always be reasonable.” He looked away. “No; I didn't like you any more than you liked me. I had no compunction about dropping you in it, especially given what you were trying to do at the time. But you did honestly believe in what you were doing. You didn't deserve to be killed for it.”

“I see,” said Dolokhov, slowly. “I'm not sure I really want to believe all that. But, somehow, I think I do.”

“It was the same with Gil and me, in a way,” Sir Ardsley continued. “He did what he did to me because all he could think of in the heat of that moment was ensuring that the Lady Heterodyne was safe. He could think of nothing else, not even our old friendship. Of course, immediately after he sent me away to find her, he understood what he'd done; if I'd known that at the time it would have made things much easier to bear. But I didn't. It was too late by then. He did what he did for the best reasons, and I was hurt as a result.” He gave Dolokhov a sad, rueful smile. “And I learnt nothing from that, because I then did the same to you. As you say, the circumstances were not quite the same; but I should have known better, nonetheless.”

Dolokhov's face was unreadable for a few moments. Then, very slowly, he lowered the gun to the floor.

“You won't be jumping, Sir Ardsley,” he said.

Sir Ardsley bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“All right. I... I accept your apology. Now, what was it you said about atonement? About helping me?”

“Well. You are, or at least you were, a Russian agent.”

Dolokhov started. “What?”

“Oh, you haven't been for a very long time. At some point – and even I can't clearly establish what that point was, but I'm pretty certain it was while I was still working for Gil – you defected to the service of Baron Wulfenbach. You'd been sent to spy on him, but you admired him so much that you joined his side. I was never tempted to do the same, but I could nonetheless understand your attitude.”

“All right,” said Dolokhov. “You're good. You're better than I thought. So...?”

“So, you're also good,” said Sir Ardsley candidly. “For many years, you played a double game. It must have been dangerous, though, perhaps, also... satisfying? I understand the pleasure of outwitting everyone around you.”

“I just bet you do,” said Dolokhov, with a reluctant note of admiration.

“But, just lately, it has finally been starting to come unravelled,” Sir Ardsley continued. “They are growing suspicious, back in Moscow, are they not?”

“Yes,” Dolokhov admitted, flatly.

“Well... I don't think I want that to happen,” said Sir Ardsley. “I owe you something, as we have already established; and, besides, you are my best friend's best administrator, so even if I had previously hated you rather than merely disliked you, I would see a great deal of good sense in making common cause now.”

“Ah. So you don't dislike me now, even though I've just tried to kill you?”

“That was entirely understandable. We will, if you are agreeable, speak no more of it.”

“Well,” said Dolokhov. “You've been... a very interesting enemy to have. Perhaps you may turn out to be an equally interesting friend.”

“I shall certainly do my best.” There was a glint in Sir Ardsley's eyes which was anything but the fear he had been showing earlier. “I do believe we may be the two craftiest diplomats on this continent at the moment. It would be a great waste if we were to continue to be pitted against each other. But working together...”

The glint was reflected in Dolokhov's own eyes. “I can hardly argue with that, Sir Ardsley. I think we should shake hands on it.”

There was a pause. Dolokhov sighed.

“I beg your pardon,” he said. “ _This_ hand.”

The ambiguity being settled, Sir Ardsley shook it. “That,” he observed, “should perhaps be written into protocol.”

“What, just for me?” asked Dolokhov. “Do you know any other four-armed diplomats?”

Sir Ardsley flicked him an eyebrow, and a little smile. “No. But you may, in future, find yourself shaking more hands.”


End file.
